Singing it is easier
by NeverquiteascleveR
Summary: England sings a song for America to apologise after a fight at a world meeting.


**Hello! this is a songfic, and unbeta'd but I hope you enjoy it anyways!**

America sulked and went off to spend yet another lunch break of their stupid world-meeting _alone_ because he and England were fighting _again_. His brother gave him a sympathetic look as he sat alone on the bench in the court yard and tried to make it look like he wasn't waiting for the island nation to come over and insult him or something, anything. They hadn't talked since their fight and something was better than nothing at this point.

The real tragedy was that he couldn't even remember what they'd been fighting about anymore. He was ready to make up but this was day three of complete radio silence from England so it was pretty clear that _that_ wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Fine, let England be grouch old butt if he wanted, they could break-up for all he cared, it was alright by him.

Why was it that he was the only person in the world that seemed to be having relationship problems at any given point in time? Sometimes he wondered if this whole relationship with England was really worth it; it seemed like all they ever did was get on each other's nerves and fight all the time. The other nations must've thought they were wasting each other's time. He knew it was pretty hopeless to apologize when the older nation was this upset, but he hoped he would at least show his face so he could try. A public declaration from a hero in front of this many witnesses might compel him to accept out of gentleman-ness or whatever.

England did show up, just not when or how he expected. He spotted a familiar shaggy blond head of hair sitting under the tree in the courtyard tuning an acoustic guitar a few minutes before the meetings were supposed to start back up. He stared curiously at the sight because this sort of thing never _**ever **_happened and wondered what the hell was going on.

England looked up from his tuning to make sure he had his attention and settled the guitar (Lolly he recalled somewhere in the back of his mind because America could never remember what policy he was supposed to be speaking on but could always recall stupid, pointless information like the fact that England named his guitars and what their names were) across his lap blushing to the tips of ears as he started to play something familiar.

America was surprised to say the least. He was forever trying to get England to play him something, usually with poor results, yet here he was strumming out a tune for him in the middle of a crowded courtyard. The melody was familiar; he remembered hearing it on the radio on the way to the airport actually but he couldn't quite remember what the song was called.

He abandoned his internal quest for the song title when England looked up from his guitar and began to sing:

_When I was younger  
I saw my daddy cry  
And curse at the wind  
He broke his own heart  
And I watched  
As he tried to reassemble it_

England had a really good singing voice, but the lyrics were making him kind of nervous. He smiled at England's escalating blush and wracked his brains trying to remember if this it was a break-up song or not.

_And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget  
And that was the day that I promised  
I'd never sing of love  
If it does not exist_

_But darling,_  
_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_

Maybe it was Hollywood, but everything about the way England was looking at him when he sang those words was making America's stomach do flips. He stood from his bench and moved closer to the tree to catch the rest of the song when England's voice became unexpectedly soft and introspective as he began the second verse.

_Maybe I know, somewhere  
Deep in my soul  
That love never lasts  
And we've got to find other ways  
To make it alone and keep a straight face  
_

That sounded a little too much like something England would think for America's tastes. He flopped down directly in front of where England was hosting his impromptu concert and held his gaze. They had a pretty rough history sure, but they hadn't stopped loving each other, not ever, and they never would if America had anything to say about it. England smiled gently at his resolute expression and kept going singing so softly America had to lean in to hear him over the gathering crowd.

_And I've always lived like this  
Keeping a comfortable, distance  
And up until now  
I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness-_  
_-Because none of it was ever worth the risk_

_Well, You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception..._

America was sure England was showing off his musical talent as he went into the bridge, the melody was way showier than he remembered. he plucked the strings with deft fingers and looked straight into America's eyes as he sang, his blush back with a vengeance.

_I've got a tight grip on reality  
But I can't let go of what's in front of me here  
I know you're leaving in the morning, when you wake up  
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream_

_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_  
_You, are, the only exception_

There was quite a big crowd now; everybody had come out to see what was holding up the meeting, but somehow it felt like it was just them. It was perfect, even if they weren't. They weren't always the best at telling each other what was going on or how they felt, but they were willing to go that extra mile to get it across if they had to. Watching England loosen up and sing his heart out to express an emotion he didn't always have words for despite being the wordsmith in the relationship reminded America why they fell in love to begin with.

_You, are, the only exception  
You, are, the only exception  
You, are, the only exception  
You, are, the only exception_

_And I'm on my way to believing_  
_Oh, And I'm on my way to believing._

Their smiles were a little watery by the time it was all over and a few people were cooing or making retching noises in the background but America didn't care. He pulled England into a kiss, crushing the guitar between them, and pressed their foreheads together when they let up for air.

"I love you," He whispered and grinned at the blush that still earned him from his boyfriend after all these years.

"I love you too you git," England replied sounding surprisingly prim despite having publicly sung him a mushy love song not moments before. "And if you haven't already guessed I apologise for Wednesday."

"It's cool; I don't remember what we were mad about anyways." America replied with a shrug. England rolled his eyes and pushed him away to stand up.

"Of course you don't," He sighed helping him up. "Come on then, let's go." America grinned and reached for his hand.

So maybe they did seem like all they did was fight; that was just a part of who they were. It was obvious they were going to find a way to make it work, and it was alright by him.


End file.
